


'cause it's too cold for you here.

by audvocado



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, POV Female Character, POV Loki (Marvel), Protective Steve Rogers, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audvocado/pseuds/audvocado
Summary: it's cold.you'recold, you stupid midgardian. against his better judgement, loki decides to help.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Kudos: 65





	'cause it's too cold for you here.

“Shit!” 

“Language!” 

You duck as another spray of bullets fills the air above your head. “Now’s not the time, Cap. Does anyone have eyes on Reindeer Games?” 

“My brother is with me,” comes Thor’s voice over comms. You barely have time to register it before another agent is on you, gun raised; you lunge at him and he shoots. The bullet ricochets off your armor-- thank God for vibranium-- and you spin, ramming your elbow into his gut, stomping on his foot as he doubles over, using his own momentum against him to flip him over. He hits the ground with a satisfying _crunch_ : you’re pretty sure you’ve broken his back. 

“I thought this was supposed to be a one-and-done mission,” grumbles Nat. You glance behind you. She’s fighting off three agents at the same time; her movements are precise, conservative, well-practiced. She almost makes it look like a dance. 

“It _was_ going to be a one-and-done mission,” you hear Loki say in your earpiece. “But my _oaf_ of a brother--” 

From the start, you weren’t the biggest fan of Loki Laufeyson. After the attack on New York, Thor had convinced SHIELD to let his brother atone for his sins, or whatever, by joining the team. He was supposed to prove he had reformed or something. You weren’t buying it. Neither was Clint, or Nat, or Banner, or anyone other than the God of Thunder, to be honest. 

You look up at the sky. Grey clouds hang heavy over the swirling tundra in the precise way that threatens a blizzard. 

“Ow, _fuck--_ hey, I remember you!” You turn to see a HYDRA agent scowling at you in surprise. You want to rip the stupid fucking Nazi patch off his stupid fucking jacket. “You’re the, uh, the guy who tried to grab me by the hair inside the base.” 

The agent glances at said base. Legions of enemy soldiers are swarming out of it like flies from an egg sac. You’ll be outnumbered soon. 

“Yeah, I remember you,” you say, circling the agent, reaching for the curved scimitar strapped across your back. “You tried to grab me by the hair but you got my scrunchie instead. That was my favorite scrunchie. I want it back.” 

The agent jumps at you. You sidestep, land a sharp series of blows to his shoulder, kick the back of his legs. His knees buckle. 

“Oh, well. If I can’t have my scrunchie, I guess I’ll just have your head.” With that, you whirl, slicing the agent’s head off with one fell swoop. It lands in the snow, staining the pure white with crimson. 

Loki chuckles through the comms. Little bitch. 

“Uh, guys?” comes Cap’s voice. “Did you feel that?” 

“No,” says Nat. You hurl a shuriken: it whistles just past her ear and finds its mark in the chest of a Hydra agent behind her. The wind picks up, blowing stray locks of hair into her face. 

“Feel what?” asks Tony suspiciously. 

Your eyes widen to see a tank hurtling right at you, and you brace for impact-- 

At the last second, Banner-- well, the Hulk-- shoves it out of your way as the turret goes off, machine gun spray spinning out of control. 

A singular snowflake drifts past your nose. 

“It’s snowing,” says Clint, as another agent gets his arm around your neck. You struggle, choking, reaching for your gun-- 

“You’re welcome,” says Loki, smugness written across his incorrigible face. The agent falls, dead, one of Loki’s daggers buried hilt-deep in his skull. 

“Did no one hear me?” repeats Clint. The snow has picked up now, along with the biting cold. “I said, it’s snowing--” 

“Yeah, stellar observation, Katniss,” says Tony. 

“This is going to be a whiteout soon,” says Nat. A series of grunts comes from her end of comms, then the thud of a body hitting the ground. “We should head for cover. Those things can kill you.” 

“If HYDRA doesn’t do it first,” you add. “We’re about to be outnumbered. Tony, where’s the Quinjet--” 

“--No!” Cap cuts off the dialogue sharply. “One of those agents has the hard drive. We’re not leaving until we get the intel we came for.” 

There’s a growing soreness in your limbs. The cold and the snow sting your face. Your movements have started to become robotic, sloppy-- tumble, stab, reach for gun in holster, empty clip, reload, dodge. You know you won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. 

Suck it up. 

We’re not leaving until we get the intel we came for. 

\----- 

“Tony?” You stumble. “Ohh, Tony, am I glad to see you--” 

“Whoa there,” he says, catching you. You can’t see his face behind the Iron Man mask, but you can tell he notes the bloodstains on your suit, because he sucks in a sharp breath. “Is that blood… yours?” 

“No, it’s Nazi blood,” you say, words slurring slightly. “I think.” 

The storm is a veritable polar vortex now. You can barely see your hands in front of you through the snow. Your toes have become so numb they feel hot. 

“Guys, Y/N is incapacitated,” says Tony. “We need to get to the safe house.” 

You try to protest. “But the information, does anyone have the hard drive--” 

“That was non-negotiable, actually,” replies the billionaire, placing a hand over your mouth. You barely feel the cold metal. “There’s a safehouse a couple miles out. We just need to get everyone together and wait out the storm. Then maybe, _maybe,_ we can try again tomorrow.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” says Loki smoothly, emerging from the infinite white expanse. In a green flash, the hard drive is in his exposed palm. “I just got it.” 

Thor is close behind him. “See? I told you, my brother is--” 

“Save your breath, Sparky,” you say. “I was a _kid_ in New York. Do you even remember--” 

“Not this argument again,” grumbles Cap over comms. “Location?” 

“We can’t see jack shit,” says Tony. “Aren’t you supposed to be the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan?” 

“Shut up,” says Cap. “Oh, hey, Natasha. Where’s Barton?” 

“Right here,” comes Natasha’s voice. “I have Banner, too.” A pause. “I think he may need medical attention.” 

“I’m okay, guys,” groans Bruce. “Just-- a lot of blood.” 

“ _Your_ blood?” says Cap. 

“Uh, yeah,” says Bruce. “And I have no clothes. Since the Hulk, you know, ripped them all off.” 

“Is everyone accounted for?” says Cap. 

“Yeah.” Tony glances at you, and then shouts in alarm. “Hey-- Y/N, what are you doing? Put those--” 

The numb heat has traveled from your toes to your body, and is now prickling uncomfortably up your neck. You unzip your jacket and roll up your sleeves, trying to cool yourself down. 

Something unfamiliar flashes in Loki’s eyes. “She’s pale and sweaty. This is hypothermia.” 

“Shit,” mutters Tony. “Zip your jacket, Y/N.” 

Your head is swimming a little, so you allow Thor to reach over and zip your jacket for you. Even the God of Thunder is shivering. Only Loki seems unaffected-- probably because he’s a frost giant. Lucky bitch. 

“Follow me,” he says, and all the wry humor he usually has is gone, replaced by a startling urgency. He walks over the quickly-rising snow with no problem. 

“Do we just--” 

“Yeah.” 

With no small amount of trepidation, the three of you follow the God of Lies into an opaque wall of white. 

\----- 

Loki watches as Clint slams the door against the wind. 

He examines the cabin-- if he can even call it that-- in distaste. It provides some cover, but it’s poorly-insulated and unfurnished; they’ll have to sleep on the floor. The wood floors look unswept, unsanded, and generally unsafe. There’s nowhere comfortable to lie you or Banner down to treat your wounds. In short, it’s a far cry from even the Asgardian dungeons. 

The team passes around rations in an awkward silence, which Thor (of course it had to be Thor) breaks. “Loki led us all here, did he not? Thanks to his Jotunn blood.” He pats Loki clumsily on the back. It’s a painful reminder of his shameful parentage. 

The group offers their stilted thanks. Loki gives no indication that he accepts their gratitude. And then they settle in on the cold, hard floor and try to go to sleep. 

Asgardians don’t need much sleep. And Loki is often plagued with nightmares: he finds himself back in Thanos’s lair, tortured, burned. Told he has been forgotten by his mother, his brother, his father. No, it’s better for him to stay awake. 

He watches quietly as the others drop off, one by one: Thor first (he doesn’t need sleep but he wants it), then Barton, then Banner, who whimpers softly when he turns over in his sleep onto his bruises, then Rogers, then Agent Romanoff, and finally, Stark. You do not sleep. 

He watches you as you toss and turn for hours, curling in on yourself, flexing cold fingers. Shaking. Trying to close your eyes and steady your breathing. 

He hates seeing you like this. It’s stupid. He thinks maybe it’s just residual guilt for the attack on New York. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. 

Finally, his heart wins out over his head. 

“Y/N,” he hisses. You stiffen and turn towards him. 

“Hmmm,” you moan tiredly. He can hear the exhaustion in the thickness of your voice, see it in the slowness of your movements. 

“You’re cold, Agent,” he murmurs, moving towards you silently. “Come here.” 

“Okay,” you say blearily. And then you curl into his side, arm snaking around his waist, hand resting on his chest, entangling your legs with his. “You’re so _warm,”_ you mumble, burying your face in his neck. 

Loki freezes. 

He knows you would never do this normally. You hate him. And with good reason, too. But you’re desperate for protection against the cruel wind and the pitiless cold. His Jotunn heritage allows him to control his body temperature. That’s all. 

Right? 

But it only takes a second for him to relax against you, to hold you closer. You shift in his arms. Slowly, your breathing evens out. 

And somehow, he can’t help but wish you needed him like this every night, so that he could wake up next to you every morning.

**Author's Note:**

> just a cute one-shot i wrote to take a break from my longer wip, inspired by sweater weather by the neighbourhood. holy FUCK im bi :)) i feel like im supposed to do one of my media recs here but it's not esap lol  
> loki odinson is my comfort character i am SO hyped for the show  
> see u soon lovely readers!


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